


Butterfly Bandage

by ItsClydeBitches



Series: Turn!PR [6]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013), Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-10
Updated: 2015-08-10
Packaged: 2018-04-13 22:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4540419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Washington's alliance with Hewlett, Mary and Anna finally get to talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterfly Bandage

The last place on earth Anna wanted to be was in her Shatterdome’s infirmary. Well, tough luck that.

 

Honestly, she probably would have just crawled back to her room if Abigail hadn’t spotted her first (damn that girl’s timing). So she’d been doing some repairs on _Magistracy_. That was normal. So she’d slipped and knocked her head something fierce against a strip of metal. Also not unheard of. So she might have bled enough to make the front half of her coveralls look bright red instead of blue... it really wasn’t that big a deal. Anna was _fine_.

 

“You’re not fine,” Abigail had snapped, half dragging her down the corridors. “We both know that if it weren’t for that woman you’d have gone straight to the infirmary, like any other sensible person. Don’t even,” she’d hissed when Anna had opened her mouth to protest. She’d pulled it shut just as fast. Anna knew when to pick her battles.

 

Abigail had seen her safely to the doors (escorted her was more like it) before scurrying off to finish her own work. Word spread fast between the Shatterdomes, faster even than their superiors could travel, and just yesterday they’d heard the news: that they’d officially be working side-by-side with Washington. Though Anna thought it was about damn time, it meant that treaties had to be drawn up, supplies redistributed, hours upon hours of strategy shared between them... there was more than enough to keep everyone busy.

 

All the more reason why Anna should be out _there_ instead of stuck in here.

 

And yet.

 

She sat on one of the beds, curtain drawn, feet kicking and hand pressed to her throbbing head. Five minutes passed, then ten. Anna was ready to just tape some gauze over herself and beat it when the curtain was torn aside, the woman who’d done it suddenly stilling.

 

“… Hey, Mary.” Ana sighed.

 

“Anna,” Mary said curtly, recovering herself. She just stood there though and Ana simultaneously wanted to bark at her to come in and hiss at her to stay away.

 

She and Mary Woodhull had never been on the best of terms.

 

“What did you do to yourself this time?” Mary finally asked, professionalism kicking in. She scurried over, hands only hesitating briefly before they drew Anna’s away. Anna was actually shocked by how warm and gentle the touch was… until Mary started prodding at the wound.

 

“ _Ow!_ Watch it!”

 

Mary shook her head. “You’ll need stitches,” she said, already drawing out the supplies. “ _Again._ ” Practice made perfect though. Within minutes Mary had the gash cleaned out, had delivered a light anesthetic (thank god), and was threading surgical thread as deftly as she did her needlepoint. Anna held in a sudden laugh at the thought, feeling very much the pincushion. Mary was the only one who bothered with such antiquated crafts nowadays.

 

Huh. Apparently, aborted laughs could be misinterpreted.

 

“Not to worry,” Mary said. Her voice had gone cold as ice. “The cut is jagged, but shallow. They’ll barely be a scar. Nothing to get upset over.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“You’ll still have your _looks_ ,” Mary spat and set her needle down more sharply than she’d probably intended.

 

For a moment Anna could only stare. Confusion, annoyance... then realization flooded her system like adrenaline. With her blood well and truly pumping, she had to dig hands into the paper beneath her, rather than risk them doing something well and truly stupid.

 

Like knocking Mary upside the head.

 

“We haven’t done anything,” Anna said, low and somewhat urgent.

 

Mary fiddled with her tools. “Of course. I’m supposed to believe _that_.” Her own hands shook, causing a jittery, metallic rattle. It grew faster, stronger, until unbeknownst to even her, Anna’s hand shot out to stop it. She gripped Mary’s warm fingers in her own, squeezing in time to their heartbeats.

 

“You should believe me because do you honestly think I’d still be alive if I _had_?” At Mary’s horrified look, Anna rolled her eyes. “Okay. A little dramatic. But in the realm of exaggeration: Ranger Woodhull would have killed me.”

 

More horror. Anna resisted that knock.

 

“ _Senior_ ,” she emphasized and thumped their hands together on the tray.

 

It took a second, then Anna had the pleasure of witnessing Mary’s understanding, as well as her relief.

 

The relationship between Anna and Abe had never been a secretive one, at least at first. They’d grown up together, here, in this very Shatterdome. ‘Jaeger Kids’ as the public called them—those born during the war and forced to live within the shadow of the Kaiju, their parents far more focused on fighting than raising their kids. Anna’s parents had both died of exposer to Kaiju Blue within a week of each other. Abe’s father had been in and out of meetings for years, leading missions left and right. Was it any wonder the children had turned to each other? For comfort, guidance, family? Ben and Caleb had paired off immediately. Anna, quite happily, was left to befriend Abe. There’d been talk in their teenage years that they’d make fearsome pilots some day...

 

Only Richard knew the whole story. Anna and Abe had fooled around some, then got serious, then entertained ideas of running away together, as so many children do. Did anyone ask them if they wanted to fight? Of course not. And who was to say the world wasn’t doomed regardless? Better to live their lives, short as they might be, in a manner that was of _their_ choosing. When Mary arrived and Abe’s brother announced their engagement, everything seemed perfect. Richard and his wife would continue to fight the good fight. Mary and Thomas would continue the Woodhull line. Anna had no family left to report to, and that was exactly as she liked it.

 

Then.

 

Then everything happened in quick succession, too quick for her to deal with: Mrs. Woodhull died of a brain aneurysm, courtesy of bad luck and too much drifting. Abe’s brother was killed in the Wall riots, leaving behind a grieving Mary who had no place in a Shatterdome, beyond as a mother for his children—children they didn’t have time to conceive. Category II’s started appearing in larger numbers, putting more strain on the Jaeger program and pushing public opinion towards the Wall. Ben and Caleb betrayed Hewlett for Washington, sure that only he had the foresight to win this war. And Abe...

 

Abe was convinced by his father to marry Mary, becoming a strange surrogate for Thomas. He partnered with Richard to pilot _Magistracy_ , becoming a surrogate for his mother too. Who had time for infidelity amongst all that? Anna threw aside her dream of becoming a ranger and focused all her energy on learning mechanics. Abigail’s friendship started filling in some of what she’d lost. Selah was there, briefly, but then he too turned against Hewlett. Even with him out of the picture, she and Abe managed to grow apart. There were a few attempts made here and there—forays into storage rooms where they got no farther than fumbling at their clothes—but the spark had died with their family. There was only just enough left to make Richard furious and Mary jealous.

 

Figures.

 

Sometimes, Anna wondered if she and Abe were still drift compatible. If they ever were.

 

Her own thoughts aside though, it should have been obvious to Mary. If she and Abe had ever sinned, then it was at the forefront of his mind. If Abe knew, Richard knew—the drift told no lies. And if Richard knew, he’s spare no breath in telling Mary all about it.

 

Here and now, she slowly untangled her hand from Anna’s, looking lost.

 

“You spend more time seething than thinking, don’t you?” Anna said, not unkindly.

 

“I—”

 

Just then a commotion drew their attention, something loud and rather... swear-filled, coming from the infirmary’s entrance. As one, Mary and Anna stood, moving together to draw aside the curtain and peer out.

 

It was Simcoe. Simcoe and about four other Shatterdome residents, dragging him along. Anna caught one look at the disheveled red hair and immediately pulled back, her heart pounding furiously. For once Simcoe was too preoccupied to notice her though, busy as he was ranting and raving about... Ben?

 

“What happened to him?” Mary whispered. Anna could tell from her tone that medical professionalism warred with her distaste for the man. Hating Simcoe was the one thing they’d probably always agree on.

 

Ann balanced himself on Mary’s shoulder, craning for a better look. “Don’t know. But if I had to guess—going by his slurred words and the cursing of our dear friend—I’d say that broken jaw was Ben’s doing.”

 

“... go Ben.” Mary muttered. Anna grinned and absently patted her arm.

 

“That’s _enough_!”

 

Everyone jumped at the arrival of Major Hewlett. With little ceremony, he strode to catch up with the ruckus, pulling an old-fashioned handkerchief from his pocket as he went. With a decisiveness the lifted eyebrows, Hewlett pushed between the men, grabbed Simcoe by the hair, and stuff the rag hard into his mouth. Simcoe’s eyes bulged at the rough treatment on his jaw, a blackened eye rolling to glare at Hewlett. Their Marshall stood his ground though, shoving Simcoe onto the nearest bed.

 

“I will not have you carrying on and disturbing the rest of my soldiers. Ones not injured by their own stupidity!” Hewlett sniffed, his stance straightening into an almost comical formality. “I fear I won’t have time to visit you during your stay here, Ranger. Very busy allying with Washington, you understand. Do pull yourself together and report to the bowls of the shatterdome. I’m sure someone there has work for you.”

 

With a curse of his own, Hewlett ripped the curtains around the bed, leaving a still raving Simcoe to the mercy of his doctors. As he turned, Hewlett caught eyes with the two women snooping.

 

Mary gave a peep of surprise, falling into an awkward salute and pulling back. Anna held her ground.

 

She eyed the rustling curtain. “Good trip, Marshal?”

 

Hewlett didn’t answer. His own gaze was trained on Anna’s forehead. She actually looked up, forgetting the ache for a moment, and when she looked again Hewlett was just a few steps away.

 

He reached down, then paused. “... I’ve given away my handkerchief.” Hewlett murmured. Softly, he lifted his bare hand instead, stopping just shy of touching Anna’s skin.

 

Then just as suddenly he stepped back, his pale cheeks heating. “Anna, yes? My apologies. D-do get that seen to. Good day.”

 

Hewlett scurried away before Anna could call him back. His boots flew out of the infirmary at a startled, embarrassed pace. He left Anna stumped, her mouth hung low.

 

_What the hell…?_

 

 

“He’s right, you know.”

 

Anna whirled to find Mary, easily passing a pair of tweezers over her fingers, then back again. Though that movement was steady, Mary’s eyes kept bouncing between Anna and where Hewlett had last stood. She held the softest expression she’d ever directed at Anna. Far softer than Anna had ever hoped for.

 

“Right?”

 

“Let me stitch you up.”

 

So Anna went. Forgetting the Marshal for just a moment. Focusing in on Mary’s hands. Her stitches were as exemplary as rumor said they were—quick and sure.

 

All in all, her conversation wasn’t too bad either.


End file.
